#p:sinb

[rkxsunggyu-blog]

one jump ahead ;

@rksinb​

Sunggyu is clumsy; he was clumsy even before the accident, but now his ungainly movements are amplified. His breathing comes hot and labored, released in quick puffs out of his mouth. As for his gait, it’s quite the cumbersome hobble down the road. It’s to be expected, however, when you’ve been stitched together with metal screws and bolts. It’s normally not this obvious that he has difficulty getting around. But come most evenings, he’s overworked himself into exhaustion. Swollen knees and aching spine simply give out on him, no matter how much willpower he possesses. Someone like this makes the perfect scapegoat.

The sidewalks get crowded enough without his slow pace causing traffic. People bump into him all the time and a slight bump of shoulders knocks him into a woman. She’s fancy rich -- nice perm, designer purse, designer shoes to match the purse, name brand jacket, and real gemstone jewelry. He’s oblivious to how smoothly someone siphoned the woman’s wallet from her purse. 

Even if she seems snooty about being bumped into, he apologizes and hurries down the sidewalk. He doesn’t think much of the accident. His own worries are too prominent. “I need to pick up the pace,” he mumbles. “A tortoise could make it home before sundown.” 

But, the woman was suspicious of him. Something felt off and to her, the only change had been bumping into the boy in knee braces. She checks her purse and not only is the leather slashed, but her wallet is gone. Who could blame her for thinking Sunggyu is the culprit? The woman runs after him, shouting that her wallet “doesn’t belong to you”. Sunggyu doesn’t even realize that she’s talking to him until phones start being pulled out to record his every move. The woman gets in front of him and demands her wallet back. It has her money, her credit cards, her identify information, and most important of all: her kids’ graduation photos. 

“What are you talking about?” he asks. His palms feel hot and itchy. His heart? It’s thudding so fast he feels like his own pulse will knock him over. The woman shows him the hole in her purse and says that he slashed it when they bumped into each other. “I didn’t slash your purse,” he says, struggling to remain calm. Perhaps, his nervousness could be mistaken for guilt. 

“You took what isn’t yours, so I’m asking nicely that you give it back,” she says. “Those are the only copies I have of those photos.” “I’m sorry, but I didn’t take your stuff.” “If you don’t give it back, I will call the police.” “I said, I didn’t take it! You could strip me naked and you wouldn’t find your stupid wallet,” he snaps. 

He didn’t mean to get snappy with her, but his big mouth changes the course of the argument. The woman tugs on his backpack to go through his things -- to find her missing belongings, so she thinks. “Thief! Thief! Thief!” she says. “You can’t just take someone’s wallet! Even beggars have more dignity than that.”

“I don’t beg.”